


Enchanté

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Baker!Kurt, Fluff, France - Freeform, French, M/M, Musician!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine hasn’t been in Paris very long, but if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that when people start yelling at you in French you’re probably doing something wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enchanté

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Klaine AU Friday.
> 
> I apologize for the butchered French.

"Non! Non, vous ne pouvez pas jouer ici! Allez!"

_Shit._

Blaine hasn’t been in Paris very long, but if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that when people start yelling at you in French you’re probably doing something wrong.

He fumbles with his violin case, reaching frantically in his bag until he pulls out a book and starts flipping through it.

"Vous êtes sourd? Je viens vous parler aller!"

Blaine frantically shakes his head, and then his face brightens and he holds the book up.

"Je… Je suis des…" Blaine furrows his eyebrows at the page, mouth silently working around the word. “Désolé?"

Blaine looks up over his handy book of phrases at the man who is speaking insanely quickly in French. Who is also insanely attractive. And looking at him like like he’s insane.

"Vous n’êtes pas français, je suis juste?"

At least Blaine’s hopelessness has made the French stranger less hostile.

"Um…" Blaine flips through the book and he knows that this man just said something about French, he  _knows_  it. “Je suis de Amérique."

"Je suis désolé." The man smiles— _wow okay Blaine play it cool don’t swoon_ —and then shakes his head. " **D’Amérique** ," he stresses.

"Uh. Excuse me?"

"You’re supposed to say  _d’Amérique_."

The sudden use of English almost makes Blaine fly backwards.

"You speak English?" The man just smiles as Blaine flounders. “So you just let me continue making a fool of myself?"

"Eh, c’était mignon." The man smiles again when Blaine glares at him. “It was cute," he clarifies, and Blaine flushes.

"Your English is… Really, really good," Blaine says, trying to redirect the conversation away from his… Cuteness.

"Actually, my French is really, really good. Je suis américain."

Wow. Blaine wonders what kind of luck he must have to end up meeting a French stranger who isn’t actually French.

"But, by the looks of it, your French is…" The man’s wrist twirls in the air and Blaine is entranced by the length of his fingers.

"Horrible?" Blaine supplies, and the man huffs out a laugh of surprise. “I do know a bit though." Blaine holds out his hand. “Je m’appelle Blaine. Et vous?"

"Je m’appelle Kurt. Enchanté." Kurt takes Blaine’s hand and lifts it to his lips, brushing them against the back. Blaine swallows so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t choke on his own tongue.

"Enchanté," Blaine says back quietly, and Kurt releases his hand. They stare at each other for a moment and and then Blaine looks away, blushing and rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck. “So, um, what you were saying before… I didn’t catch any of that."

The man’s eyebrows lift as if he hadn’t remembered that that’s how the whole conversation had started.

"Oh,  _that_. You can’t play that here." He nods towards the violin case, and Blaine frowns.

"Why not?"

"Because this is  _ma pâtisserie_  and I don’t really like people panhandling in front of it."

Blaine turns to look at the glass storefront of the bakery he’d randomly chosen, and then back at Kurt.

"So you bake?"

"So you play?" Kurt counters, teasing him about the obviousness of the question.

"Um, yeah. Leisurely, not like… I don’t play my violin on the street for a living. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!" He rushes to say. “I’m studying abroad and, you know, you don’t really see people busking with violins back in New York and I’ve seen at least like six people since I got here and—"

"Blaine, Blaine. Taisez-vous." Kurt reaches forward and grasps Blaine’s shoulder. Oh, he’d been rambling, right. 

Kurt is still touching his shoulder. Blaine could really get used to this whole tactile-French-stranger thing.

"Sorry, I… Do that." He grins sheepishly.

"C’est mignon, aussi," Kurt says quietly as he leans in, as if they’re discussing a secret, and Blaine blushes again. “So, Blaine. I have to ask. If you can’t speak French, why did you decide to study abroad in Paris?"

"The experience, actually. And you’d be surprised how much you can convey with body language." Blaine’s eyes widen as he realizes what he says and Kurt laughs behind his hand.

"Oh, I’m not so sure."

Maybe French people just sound more flirtatious, because Kurt couldn’t be flirting with him. That’s  _ridiculous_. Right?

"So your first time in France, hmm?" Kurt asks, leaning against the glass window. Blaine gives a nod. “Come then." He reaches forward and grasps Blaine’s wrist. “You have not experienced Paris until you’ve had a  _macaron._ ”

"One of those coconut things?"

Kurt scoffs.

"No. A bite-sized piece of heaven.  _Viens_." Kurt gives a tug and Blaine lets himself be led.


End file.
